


all the roads that lead me home

by Livali



Series: hello, my friend (we created something phenomenal) [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: ...i may have more feelings about this three than i previously let on, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), F/F, Light Angst, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, background ishimondo ikuzono and naegami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livali/pseuds/Livali
Summary: It begins on a Friday afternoon, as things in high school usually do. She’s sleepless with a lax grip on a series of unhealthy late night habits; one of them pours her tea at the gardens on three, another waves at her from the pool on five, and she’s smitten. She’s seen the movies. Kirigiri should’ve known these were warning signs.The truth has always been clear to her until it isn’t. So, Kirigiri begins. The results say I’m matched with two people.Well, Naegi laughs knowingly. Is that even a surprise?or;Kirigiri’s in love. It’s simple—except for the part where it really isn’t.
Relationships: Asahina Aoi/Celestia Ludenberg, Asahina Aoi/Kirigiri Kyoko, Asahina Aoi/Kirigiri Kyoko/Celestia Ludenberg, Kirigiri Kyoko/Celestia Ludenberg
Series: hello, my friend (we created something phenomenal) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198454
Comments: 22
Kudos: 51





	all the roads that lead me home

**Author's Note:**

> these three characters were giving me brain damage simultaneously, so i had a galaxy supernova star idea saying polyamory, and i went with it because i have no self-control. 
> 
> anyways, this is an extremely minor detail, but in this hpa au dorms are optional; so some live with their families, some alone, some decided the dorms are ideal. i’m a first year college student who hasn’t seen the sun in 84 years, so high school is slowly and slowly becoming a distant concept for me. but i do think dormitories shouldn’t be a required thing, even with something hypothetically prestigious as hope’s peak. 
> 
> there's a few swear words, but that’s the only reason i have the t rating up. it would be g otherwise. i hope you guys enjoy reading, and happy new year!
> 
> insp: written entirely to stateside and ok goodnight.

The thing about experiencing human emotions after refusing to process it for years is that it’s not easy. The thing about love is that it’s never easy.

Not that Kirigiri doesn’t know about such emotions or anything, but one glance at Ishimaru and Oowada or Ikusaba and Maizono is enough for her to feel intimidated at even the idea of feeling that way about another person. It may be easy for most people to grasp, but for her it’s an entirely different experience.

It’s a difficult sentiment to comprehend, but it’s not impossible to describe; it’s like she’s looking into a void of empty space knowing that there’s something missing, but she can’t say what. It doesn’t necessarily bother her or actively disturb her routine and anything like that, she has her studies, her ambitions, her detective work and her friends, ones for life at that.

So here’s the problem: it shouldn’t have happened.

Well, it’s _not_ exactly a big problem yet, just in the makings of one. It’s a bit of everything. The way she’s happier these days, laughed more, and the way the laugh changed from something small to the point she threw back her head and expressed it with herself entirely. Something she hasn’t done in—in, well, _forever_ and as far as she could remember, honestly.

The thought stirred something within her, raging inside her chest and making its way into every part of it—knowing every curve of her mouth, every blink, every beat and chamber of the muscle in her chest, throbbing with the rhythm of a large-scale orchestra. It would’ve been obvious if she’s viewed it from an outsider’s view, but she hasn’t taken notice of it, hasn’t realized what feelings have been blooming inside of her until it dawned on her too late. She’s been consumed by something she couldn’t name at all.

There _was_ a plan here—not necessarily as sure and foolproof as Togami’s thick binders full of life plans—but rather, a simple step by step way to redeem her last name while subtly flipping her father off as she runs into the sunset, a stable occupation in her hand and an accomplished life ahead of her. Whatever this feeling was, it wasn’t a part of it.

Of course, she’s alright with that. The plan will obviously change overtime, but that doesn’t mean she couldn't improvise and adapt. She can. After all, there weren’t too many pressing distractions around. There wasn’t anyone who—

She wakes up in a cold sweat one day in the middle of the night and finds that every standard she’s set for herself has been effortlessly destroyed by the culminating pressure of way too many experiences and the impulsive whims of an extremely vivid imagination.

“Oh.” Kirigiri mumbles aloud. “Oh _no_.”

Normally, she isn’t so wordless—she’s spent way too much time in the library to be short on everyday vocabulary, but the revelation she just had doesn’t exactly call for her to be verbose. She closes her eyes, tries to banish the pictures from her mind—red, black, hair like ink and eyes like seas—forcing herself to take a deep breath and calm down.

It’s safe to say her plan doesn’t quite work out the way she’s hoped for.

She shrugs everything off a few hours later, burying everything into the back of her mind in the same way she’s pushed last week’s laundry down in a basket.

(And maybe, that's the first mistake she makes.)

* * *

It starts with something trivial, inconsequential. Almost meaningless in the bigger picture. She has tea and chats with Ludenburg on Friday afternoons, when extracurriculars weren’t so demanding. There isn’t much to do around this time of the year that it gets tedious, if she’s being honest.

“So you’re hiking on Sunday?” Ludenburg asks her for the thousandth time, voice light and thoughtful. Kirigiri stares at the rows of flowers and greenery as they walk, serene and peaceful, like she’s looking at a movie rather than a real landscape. The school gardens always possessed a beautiful assemblage. “That sounds quite tiring.”

“Anything physical for you is tiring,” Kirigiri says, her automatic response at this point. “I told you—the scenery is nice. There’s a few hills there, one to two hours travel on commute. Nice incline, still marked, and not much people around, especially on weekends.”

“Of course,” she nods. “Just making sure. I’m thinking of going with you as well.”

Kirigiri raises a single eyebrow, interest piqued. _“You?”_

“Yes.”

“You’re telling me _you’re_ going?”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she bites back, and follows up with claws. It doesn’t hurt—Kirigiri knows her enough to see that all barbed wire coming from her mouth has only ever been a prop. “Walking won’t obviously kill me.”

Kirigiri blinks, stare focusing on the assortment of roses ahead of them. Well, that bit of information unfortunately makes this entire prospect more intriguing. “Hm. I see then.”

Ludenburg sighs; another scathing comeback sits on her tongue somehow. Kirigiri hears the undertone. “So, you’re really going.”

“I am,” she answers, muted excitement expanding beyond her mouth. “Are you sure you want to come with?”

Ludenburg actually laughs, questionably entertained by the visual. “My,” she says, amused. “Forward, but yes. I’ll think about it.”

“Sure you will,” Kirigiri says in a droll sort of voice, so dry and sarcastic that Ludenburg is visibly surprised when her lips don’t crack over the word on its way out, split like hairs, frozen by ice. The gambler hums, her eyes falling to the tea table near the greenhouses. She sits, idly looking over some of the notes left on the tabletop, eyes hazing in thought before her gaze falls back to Kirigiri.

“Yes,” she says breezily as Kirigiri sits across her. “I will.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’,” Kirigiri quips, arranging the teacups and Ludenburg helps. Their hands graze against each other lightly, and it’s a familiar accident—a familiar offense. In moments like these, the space between them somehow dwindles until it’s close to nothing. But only stops at that. “You’re definitely going.”

“Of course you would know,” she chuckles, a small, throaty sort of laugh, and Kirigiri gravitates towards the sound. Ludenburg pours her a cup. Chamomile, the concoction somehow still warm. Tea wasn’t her preferred choice of beverage—but she’s become endeared with it as time went on. “You know me so well, detective.”

“I was guessing when I told you that.”

“I’m aware you’re running on three hours of sleep, but you still never guess when it comes to me.” She clicks her tongue. “Nice try, Kirigiri-san.”

Ludenburg keeps her smile aloof, red eyes frustratingly arrogant and all-knowing. And that’s the thing that does it for Kirigiri, really, because _god help her_ it makes her want to kiss it off of her face.

Oh, there it is.

* * *

It gets worse. Her habit of walking home with Asahina—and on occasion, Oogami too—starts on the same Friday.

Five noon for sports teams is frantic, loud, and busy. The mass of students blend into just noise and so does she, moving in sync with the sea of bodies like synthetic beats born from the music lab. Wow, Makoto would say with a smile. Three years here and I’ll still never get used to it.

Many swimmers glide across the pool; the eyes of the crowd follow. Kirigiri can only see so much from where she sits, even with this little people. Her tongue rests against the roof of her mouth, thinking, contemplating. There’s many faces she recognizes, but only one she’s closely familiar with.

Asahina is off to the side with a fellow swim team member, laughing and smiling at something they’ve said. They’re both in good spirits, pausing to talk and nod at something occasionally. Practice must be almost done, Kirigiri reckons. Her nerves flare underneath her skin, opening, anticipating. Asahina turns towards her direction and waves, her face lighting up in recognition.

(She thinks of sunflowers, and then roses; they make a nice contrast. She wants to hold them both.)

She stays until it ends. The sky dims, the lights drop, the air cools. She brings out a novel, then delicately places the bookmark aside. A couple voices thunder outside, cheering, chattering, and they all melt into the background. Kirigiri thinks of Asahina’s mouth forming a curve, giggling into her palms.

“Oh, hey!” Asahina runs toward her, tightening her ponytail, a small bag of emptied snacks hanging from her arm. “What’s up?”

“I heard from Oogami-san that she wasn’t going to walk home with you today.” Kirigiri says, brusquely standing, placing back her bookmark and closing the novel. “I’ll go with you instead.”

Asahina laughs, a sweet sort of chiming, and once again Kirigiri finds herself drifting towards the sound. “Oh yeah, something with the dojo came up so she had to leave early.”

“Then I’m walking with you,” she replies shortly, arranging her belongings and already walking towards the door.

“Isn’t your apartment at the opposite direction?” Asahina asks, jogging after her and checking her phone for the time. “You’ll be home late.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Asahina inquires offhandedly, leaning at her from her right side and cutely bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Are you sure? Like one hundred percent sure?”

Kirigiri throws her a wry glance. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, and then grins at her in a way that makes something in Kirigiri’s chest flutter. “Cool, cool. That’s cool.”

Kirigiri manages a chuckle, even though her tongue feels like a rock. “Right.”

“Maybe we can get some food along the way,” Asahina remarks, idly tapping her chin with one finger, shifting her head and tossing her a warm smile. She moves a little closer, and again the space disappears to none. “It’s almost six anyway.”

“Hm,” Kirigiri starts. “Maybe.”

Asahina laughs again, though Kirigiri doesn’t think she’s said anything particularly funny. 

“Alright.” She grins. “There’s this really nice stall that sells the best fried donuts around this hour. Is that okay?”

A lot of things are okay with me if it’s with you. “Yeah,” Kirigiri settles with. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Great!” Asahina declares, putting her hand on her hips and attempting to look imposing at five-three to her five-seven. She’s pretty, charming, and entirely deserves the crowd cheering her on minutes earlier. Kirigiri finds herself immediately agreeing with the observation. “It’s pretty close by anyways. It’s on me.”

“If you don’t mind,” Kirigiri says carefully, heart pulsing inside her mouth.

“Nice,” Asahina’s lips quirk into a smile, hinting to delight. There’s a trap here, somewhere. There’s a mystery to solve. _Take this,_ the challenge says, _take this clap of lightning, this stroke of fire, take it like it’s my heart_. A cross between temptation and longing. But she’s more rational than that, so she doesn’t run towards it.

“We should do this more,” Asahina begins in the silence, leaning closer to her, hopeful arches on her eyebrows. “I mean—we talk all the time, but still, Fridays! You know? It’s really nice to walk around with you, Kyoko-chan.”

The world moves around them, occupied and unbothered. They’re both too contained and fraying to nothing.

“Sure.” She says, breathless without knowing why.

* * *

Printed forms are passed through the class the next day. She’s reading through a passage in biology when a piece of paper is thrust beneath her nose.

“What is this?” Kirigiri asks, taking it from Ishimaru despite not knowing anyway.

“It’s something the other class is working on, it seems,” he supplies dutifully. “The Ultimate Matchmaker happened to be the project lead and we’re the last participants. They will post the results online the next week!”

“Matchmaking.” Kirigiri says blankly, inspecting the contents of the print and raising her brows bemusedly. “I see. Thank you, Ishimaru-kun.”

“Looks fun.” Asahina giggles adorably from beside her. “I don’t really care about the results, but there’s something to look forward to next week now. Yeah?”

“I guess,” Kirigiri says distractedly.

She observes Ludenburg a few seats in front of her, only staring at the page, dropping her shoulders in a sophisticated short of shrug. “Is that all?” She asks, emotion too vague for Kirigiri to recognize, and then picks up her pen; she smoothens out the sheet and starts to read.

Kirigiri follows her with a sigh and more willingness than she’s planned on. This was pointless, really, but there’s no use complaining; she’d just come across as rude and difficult, especially when most have obeyed with compliance and eagerness. She closes her textbook to use it as a flat surface.

Preference: is a question at the top of the page, innocent and straightforward. It sits next to name, age, birthday. Kirigiri stares shamelessly at Asahina’s hand out of the corner of her eye, watches her underline women without a second thought, moving onto dreams and hobbies. She then observes Ludenburg, sees women in a bold red circle and the print already half full.

Kirigiri’s fingers twitch. She marks women, too, in such quick and ruthless lines that the ink practically bleeds through the paper, strokes impressed into the textbook underneath.

* * *

“This is going to be _so_ funny,” Asahina says with a certain teasing sparkle, handing Ishimaru her completed questionnaire a few minutes later. She turns to Ludenburg at her side and shoots her a wink. “If I’m not paired with my soulmate or something, then I call bullshit.”

Ludenburg rolls her eyes, also passing over her paper. “Considering the fact you rejected all advances on you so far,” she says, “There’s not so much to prepare for unless it’s disappointment.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Asahina says back cockily, walking towards her seat and putting her legs over the desk—consequently ignoring Ishimaru’s chiding in the background. “Maybe I’m waiting. Maybe I’m not. I like my chances.”

Ludenburg mirrors her, eyes masked with fire. Asahina seems to inspire it in anyone when she needs to, but Ludenburg most especially. “Waiting? Is there someone you fancy, Asahina-san?”

“Some _one_ ,” Asahina replies, then looks at Kirigiri with a suspiciously sunny smile, “right.” She then meets Ludenburg’s eyes without hesitation, nothing and everything diabolical about her mouth. “What about you, Celes-san?”

“Well, you see—”

“Please stop flirting,” Kirigiri cuts in exhaustedly, and Asahina finally breaks into laughter. “The entire class is going to feel like a third wheel at this rate.”

“Aw,” Asahina coos. “Don’t worry Kyoko-chan, I’ll flirt with you too so you don’t feel left out.”

“We’re not flirting,” Ludenburg responds, denial somewhat robotic. She sounds like she’s reciting from a book, saying the lines, reading the scripts.

“Huh? Well I am,” Asahina says, waves a hand languidly, and Kirigiri watches Ludenburg’s cheeks flush before she visibly forces it back. Kirigiri shifts her feet idly on her seat, feeling sore and tired from walking on eggshells. Will they, won’t they, why won’t they, why won’t _we_ —Asahina’s stare turns mischievous, impish— _when will we_. “I change my mind—if I don’t get Celes-san as my result, then I’m giving up.”

“Standing next to you is an embarrassment.” Ludenburg goes back to her seat, opening a textbook. “I won’t compromise my dignity by talking to you any longer.”

“I just knew you would say that,” Asahina says, leaning against Kirigiri’s shoulder, brown hair tickling her jaw. Kirigiri thinks of keeping her there, sinking into the arms of the sun. “You nerd.”

“Intellectual,” Ludenburg corrects. “There are far uglier words I’ll take offense to,” she waves off. “And you’re a _jock_.”

Asahina cackles. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“And?” Ludenburg chuckles fondly, looks at both of them in the eye. There’s something familiar about the expression she’s shooting them, but for the life of her, Kirigiri couldn’t figure out what. “I wasn’t insulting you, was I?”

Kirigiri hasn’t spoken in far too long and it’s becoming obvious. She’s always so close to an edge, always stumbling over high cliffs, always teetering on tightropes, but she takes the step back to feigned indifference. Doesn’t run towards it. “Matchmaking,” she interrupts them aridly. “We might as well go to Hagakure-kun and have our fortunes told.”

“You don’t need your fortunes told to see what’s right in front of you,” Asahina says seriously, and Ludenburg smiles knowingly. Both of their looks are far more genuine than the ones they had before.

Kirigiri doesn’t comment on that.

* * *

“Who do you think you’ll get?” Naegi asks. “Togami-kun says I’ll get someone who will probably tolerate me—jeez, like I’d care about what he says. He’s been our classmate for almost three years and I _still_ can’t figure out if he sees me as a friend or not.”

“He does, he just won’t admit that to your face,” Kirigiri says, humouring him, only because Naegi has her trapped in the lunch line and she wants to eat more than she doesn’t want to listen. “And—I don’t know. Maybe some stranger from another class.”

“Huh? Isn’t that kind of not the point?” Naegi blinks, taking some grapes from the fruits tray. “I’ve heard—like, the Ultimate Matchmaker is really good. Rumors say they’ll be able to pair two people crushing on each other just by looking at that paper.”

Kirigiri raises a single eyebrow, intrigued. “Really now?”

“Yeah.”

“And they’re still rumors.” Kirigiri says flatly. “I wouldn’t doubt an ultimate ability, but that seems…”

“Right?” Naegi says quickly, munching on a slice of bread. “It sounds kind of cool, but knowing my luck, it would probably match me with _Togami-kun_ of all people. That would be really stupid.”

Kirigiri bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to laugh at the idea. Oh, if only he knew. “You really shouldn’t care about it so much, it isn’t a big deal.”

Naegi smiles. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not like going out on dates with your match is mandatory or something.”

Her entire face almost reads as a grimace as Naegi says that, the distaste swelling beyond her expression. “Thankfully,” she only says. “That wouldn’t be ideal.”

Naegi laughs louder, but not enough to bring attention, worryingly amused by the thought. “Who knows,” he says vaguely. “They said it’s a suggestion. Maybe you’ll like who you’ll end up with?”

“Maybe,” Kirigiri repeats dryly. She slips a few apple slices into her plate, turns away toward their table, her eyes automatically falling to Asahina groaning into the hard surface, Oogami comforting her at one side. Ludenburg’s at the other, holding a notebook with scribbles of quadratic equations and sighing; she’s probably tutoring, popping grapes mindlessly in her mouth as she does.

“Maybe,” Naegi continues easily near her shoulder. “Maybe you’ll like the results, want to go on that date, and enjoy going on that date, yeah?”

He walks past Kirigiri, tossing her a knowing smile as if he knows exactly where Kirigiri’s stare goes to in a crowded room, where her eyes go when her mind wanders.

“There you are!” Asahina says when she approaches, patting the spot between her and Ludenburg on the bench. “Saved you a seat. I had to almost beat up Kuwata-kun some time ago for trying to take it.”

Kirigiri sits, presses between them a little too close. Their elbows knock against each other lightly. A familiar offense, an intimate hazard; the space between them always vanishes until it’s close to nothing. Ludenburg rolls her eyes. “You didn’t do anything, and you’re an idiot.”

“I’m sorry, but I can affirm that,” Oogami casually chimes in from Asahina’s side, seemingly content with eating her bento in peace.

“You guys suck.” Asahina whines, stealing a grape from Ludenburg’s plate and popping it into her mouth. Kirigiri smiles at the display, small and airy. “Whatever, Celes-san. I still know you think I’m funny.”

“I was lying when I told you that.”

“Ouch,” Asahina leans against Kirigiri with a dramatic sigh. She’s warm. Kirigiri finds that feeling the sensation any longer may lead to nothing short of a heart attack. “Your words wound me.”

“Good,” Ludenburg deadpans. “That’s the effect I’m going for.”

“If you two start flirting again,” Kirigiri says blankly. “I have no choice but to go to another table.”

“We’ll flirt with you then.” Asahina tells her with a wink.

“We’re not doing anything of the sort,” Ludenburg says immediately after, response seemingly automatic. “You are _insufferable_.”

Kirigiri only chuckles, their voices feel grounding, holding her to the earth. She looks to the side, finds Naegi keeping his smile cool and his green eyes narrowed and lingering on the lack of space between the three of them.

I know, she imagines him saying. I _know_. Sorry that you’re doomed, or whatever.

Okay, so, maybe it’s way too obvious.

* * *

She’s an hour in on her little Sunday excursion and the landscape is truly one of the most relaxing, picturesque places she’s ever seen. The red of the fall has given way to a myriad of other colors, oranges and browns and greens and yellows, and it’s how she knows she’s officially begun. Ludenburg walks a few steps behind her, in more casual wear and looking a little drained. Kirigiri holds back a smirk; it’s almost a three-hour hike, not like camping, but could be if she had more equipment. The gambler’s not going to last long.

She doesn’t know what actually made her come here—maybe she’s looking for answers, maybe she’s looking for something beautiful to set her life back on the rails, maybe she’s looking for parts she’s given away after recognizing how badly she needs them. Maybe she’s looking for a signal.

She sighs. It sounds ridiculous, even for her. Going to the middle of nowhere to get answers. Like the trees or something were going to talk to her, put her life into perspective, give her the freedom she needs to be with who she wants without question, without restraint.

Maybe the only thing the trees will tell her was to grow the fuck up.

She sees someone crouching in the dirt just ahead of her, their hand occupied with their phone, taking pictures of the scenery around them; they seem to be doing so carefully, eyes narrowed, brown hair in a ponytail—Asahina? Kirigiri’s so startled by the appearance of a familiar face—especially out here—that she stops walking entirely, caught off-guard by the sight in front of her.

“Hm,” she hears Asahina hum to herself, tongue dipping out by habit, and Kirigiri doesn’t know what spell has her rooted to the ground, unable to move, to think, let alone to fucking speak; all she can do is stare at the way the sunlight shifts, piercing through the leaves and how it all tangles in Asahina’s brown hair, resting across her face. Kirigiri squints and blinks rapidly against the harsh glares, raising an arm, and Asahina apparently hears the motion because she’s on her feet, whipping her entire body around as though she’s expecting a threat—

Instead, she finds Kirigiri, still standing there dumbly like she’s made a home in the earth, and Asahina’s expression falls open, overjoyed.

“Oh my god,” she breathes out, smile spreading to her eyes. Her stone blue irises peer into Kirigiri’s own lilac, then she takes her phone aside in a small bag. “You’re here!”

“Asahina-san?” Ludenburg asks from beside her, finally caught up, a little breathless. She looks both confused and also starstruck by the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Maybe we had the same idea,” she laughs easily, tossing them a friendly smile, wide and all-teeth. “Wanted fresh air, took a hike. Semantics. Wait—what are _you_ doing here? You’d rather be caught dead than take a hike!”

Ludenburg rolls her eyes, a constant habit around Asahina. “Well, that’s clearly changed.”

Asahina giggles. “Maybe you can finally up that stamina of yours, huh? You should jog with me sometimes. Kyoko-chan does when she’s free.”

“Over my dead body,” Ludenburg harrumphs under her breath.

Kirigiri, still finding it hard to process the situation, only says the first thing that comes to mind, “Aren’t you hot?” and freezes awkwardly upon hearing her own words. She hears Ludenburg laugh shortly at her blunder.

“I always am, Kyoko-chan,” Asahina replies instantly, winking suggestively.

Kirigiri sighs. “Jacket,” she contextualizes.

“Oh, no idea actually. My gut told me to bring one,” she waves off. “Good thing though, heard it gets a bit windy later.”

Kirigiri hums, Ludenburg walks closer, looks idly at the falling leaves.

“So,” Asahina begins, walking with them now that she’s found company. “What’s two pretty girls doing in a place like this?”

Kirigiri smiles, not finding the phrase offensive. “Like you, and Celes-san’s just hear to annoy me,” she says, and if this were any other person, she’d be irritated at them for being called pretty and assumed as unfit for the wilderness, but this is Asahina, so she obviously means differently.

“Consider my presence a gift,” Ludenburg snaps back mildly. “I merely thought it was interesting, so I came with her. How is this any different?”

“Everything’s different when it comes to you,” Asahina says casually. And if Kirigiri probed hard enough the sentence would mean something else entirely. But she doesn’t, so the meaning is lost in translation. “I’d have to play hundreds of tic-tac-toes to get you to agree with me on something.”

“That’s obviously,” Ludenburg starts with a somewhat fond smile, “how much I tolerate you.”

“She means not what she says,” Kirigiri adds, the wind rustles softly through the trees, toying with her lavender hair. “She wouldn’t still be here otherwise.”

“Shut up,” the gambler interrupts her crossly, cheeks pink. “You’re an annoyance. You know that?”

“Oh, I know,” Kirigiri drawls. “You tell me that every day.”

“Ah,” Ludenburg breathes out, eyebrows raising at the sarcasm; people don’t often talk back to her in that manner, and Kirigiri enjoys being one of the only few that do so—maybe Ludenburg, too, for some weird reason. “Good, I was thinking I missed a quota.”

“Man,” Asahina interrupts, smile a crooked line. “Feeling a bit left out here.”

“Then leave,” Ludenburg says boredly, looking at her nails, then turns to Kirigiri. “Are you hitting on me?”

“Depends, are you single?” Kirigiri asks before her brain has even finished processing the question.

“Yes,” Ludenburg responds coyly. “I am.”

“Then I’m hitting on you,” Kirigiri says with a smile, swallowing the lump in her throat, her mouth a desert.

Asahina laughs loudly.

“Oh,” Ludenburg says, looking like she doesn’t know whether to laugh with her or to run away. She appears to settle with a version of the former, lips peeling into a subdued smile. “Do you do this to all the girls that catch your attention, detective?”

“Whoa? A girl?” Asahina cuts in, butting in between them and asking in a particularly sardonic flair. “Is she pretty?”

“Mhm,” Kirigiri says, staring at Asahina, who’s very close to her, pointedly. The area where their arms connect feels white-hot, like her skin’s being lit on fire and if she squinted she’d find lines of ash falling from where she’s been touched last. “She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“Really?” Asahina stops on a breath, staring blankly at her.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice not as steady as it was seconds ago. Uncertain and unsure what to make of the situation.

“Seriously.”

“Yes, she’s serious,” Ludenburg quips. “And I agree.”

Asahina inhales sharply, and Ludenburg’s eyes narrow, contemplating. Kirigiri was beginning to find it harder to look away from them.

“Um,” Asahina stares at them for a second, like she’s debating not only on what to say, but if she should say anything at all. “What’s her name? Does she have a type? Is she single?” She asks it expectantly, her smile shifting into a grin, and the conversation doesn’t feel like the same it was minutes ago anymore.

“Oh, you know,” Kirigiri says brilliantly. “She’s on class seventy-eight, best swimmer they’ve seen in decades. She went out with me on Friday to get some fried donuts—I think it was nice. I can’t even think of rejecting _that_.”

“ _Can_ you?” Ludenburg asks playfully.

“I just said no, didn’t I?”

“Maybe. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl too,” Ludenburg continues, folding her arms, entertained by whatever this conversation is. “I believe she’s one of my types. Who knows, maybe the reverse is true.”

Kirigiri tosses her an amused glance. “You’re conceited.”

Ludenburg laughs, “That, I am.” There’s an interesting dissonance between Asahina and Ludenburg, she notices; both tending to be the most straightforward in different ways—Asahina’s more relaxed, rolling with the punches and fighting back when needed, but Ludenburg is nothing if not founded on pride, and her first instinct is to flaunt it.

Asahina blinks at them, jaw slightly unhinged, unable to respond. Ludenburg smiles, something teasing, the insinuation speaks for itself. Kirigiri observes them carefully, how they’re flowing with this one instant, letting it soak until there’s nothing left to feel but the feeling of it itself.

And then Asahina gulps, “Uh, I’ll—I’ll go for a run,” and turns on her heel, jogging away.

Both she and Ludenburg stand unmoving, stunned, dazed. The breeze falters and dies; the sunlight shifts again, the grass still scrapping and flowers unravelling against their calves.

“…ah,” Ludenburg finally breathes out seconds later, biting her traitorous bottom lip.

“Hm.” Kirigiri says, mind preoccupied.

“So,” Ludenburg says, mouth quirking bemusedly and meeting her eyes ( _redandredandredredred_ ). “So, that happened.”

Kirigiri smiles without even knowing why, without realizing she’s doing it, and quickly snaps the expression away when she does, her heart tangling and twisting itself up in her chest. She looks back over her shoulder, watches Asahina’s figure shrink in the distance; and when her gaze returns forward again, Ludenburg is walking away and ahead of her, fiddling with a bunch of sunflowers and lilacs.

She frowns; they only seem to get more attractive every time Kirigiri sees them, like wildfire, like lightning, a bright red stoplight in the dead of the night. There’s something in her that can’t be contained, can’t be bound to anything at all, and that’s the thing—she thinks idly—somehow, in a life filled with too much questions with so little answers, being drawn to them is the one thing she’s sure of.

Kirigiri finishes the hike in silence. She lets the moment take her, until there’s nothing left but the freedom in feeling it.

* * *

Kirigiri gets home, steps right into the shower before her mind has a chance to form a coherent thought. She turns on the water, drowns everything out. She runs her hands through her hair, wipes off her face, and she can only think of Asahina’s smile, her fingertips sweeping across Ludenburg’s cheeks, how her touch almost burns that she wonders if she would leave singes on the skin, how it bruises, relief rushing after blood. She’s never felt anything like it. She’s never felt anything even remotely close. It’s all new there’s not much to say—it all seems like a feeling than it is a concept.

She lets the water run down her head, letting it run down her neck, her back, her legs, her hands. Ludenburg was right; she’s can’t even deny them, not sure if she even could, knows she doesn’t want to. But she can’t point her finger at when the shift occurred. It’s like she’s been talking to herself in her sleep and can’t quite remember the words exchanged.

Thirty minutes later, she walks into her room, resolved, resigned, resolute.

She should be enthused more, she thinks, her stomach tying itself into a knot. It should motivate her, inspire her; instead, she remembers Asahina’s laughter, Ludenburg and her barbed wires, the way Kirigiri’s always found her way to them even without thinking so, like that’s where she belongs and how she’s found them in moments very unlike them.

Moments where they let their carefully constructed defences drop in favor of something else: where they were barely inches away, and Ludenburg had curled her fingers around Asahina’s elbow in a surprisingly uncharacteristic sort of softness, had worn a delicate expression she’s seen rarely but beautiful on Ludenburg’s face, and Asahina had said something that made her burst into laughter and Ludenburg seemed so—

—content.

Kirigiri swallows heavily, past the discomfort in her throat.

Great. Just great.

(She is so, _so_ screwed.)

* * *

The day after is a torturous, mind-numbing affair of trying to get her bearings straight again. The dark smudges of exhaustion under her eyes is obvious, even more so than usual, and her face is sharper—making all of her features look altogether more callous. Apathetic. She looks into the mirror. It’s not so different from how she would look to a stranger, but certain people would definitely notice.

“Oh wow,” Maizono says, clothes impeccably straightened out and a bounce in her step. The idol smiles sheepishly. “Usually it’s Naegi-kun or Mukuro-chan walking with me at this time, you’re up early.”

“Yeah.” She says. Her voice is chillier than intended, especially to a good friend like Maizono, but she doesn’t let her expression waver. Kirigiri doesn’t bother to provide an explanation, heading straight to the first floor restrooms to wash her face and arrange herself for nth time that morning.

She manages, somehow, but trying to maintain this front can only last for so long.

Here’s the thing, this bad mood is entirely different than the ones she’s thrown into by her father. Or, well, the ones _she_ usually throws herself in, but that isn’t the point here. (So really, she’d rather be alone and brood a little, maybe try and accept that she’s never going to be able to settle her heart in peace.)

Naegi corners her in an old classroom after lunch.

Kirigiri groans internally.

Naegi can usually lighten her up during her off days, and now that she thinks about it—so can Asahina and Ludenburg, albeit in different ways. But considering the fact that _they_ are the cause of her inner turmoil at the moment, Kirigiri can’t really find it in herself to relax.

“Hey,” Naegi says soothingly. “You okay? You don’t look so good.”

“Yes,” she says blankly. “I’m alright. New case just dropped on me yesterday.”

“Oh,” he blinks, then looks at her dubiously but the expression disappears after a few seconds. “Yeah, that does kind of suck. You can always ask everyone to help though!”

My bad. I don’t feel great lying to you. Or anyone else, really. You’re all really nice people and I feel like jumping off from the third floor every other minute.

“No, I’m good,” Kirigiri lies. “Just need some sleep, then I’ll be right on track again.”

“Hey.” Naegi says, and the way he sounds, the tone of his voice—like pillows and cotton and everything gentle in the world, makes Kirigiri understand how even the unflappable Togami would cave. He places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Everyone’s here if you need to talk—and me too. Solidarity, you know? We all promised.”

The desire to open up is there faster than a bullet, though the wound in her heart bleeds out all the same. “I’m alright, really,” she says, looking away. “Thanks for the offer regardless, Naegi-kun.”

He looks at her suspiciously, but lets her be. “Okay.”

* * *

Kirigiri’s fresh from a session after Thursday PE when she arrives to the classroom, where Ishimaru was handing out prints, presumably the compatibility test results, with some receiving eager for their matches, some indifferent.

“Ah, Kirigiri-kun!” Ishimaru calls upon spotting her. “Here it is, this one is yours—”

She traipses over, oddly nervous with her footfalls slightly stuttering. Ishimaru, similarly, seems too high-strung, excitable and frantic. He’s probably expecting to see Oowada in his results—which is cute, really, because they were together anyways. Kirigiri takes the paper and starts opening it.

“What?” She hears Naegi’s voice shout from somewhere in the class. “Why is Togami-kun my match?!”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Hagakure’s voice joins in, laughing loudly. “Oh, _oh,_ Naegi-chi that’s amazing—”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shut your mouths, you cretins.”

She slips the paper out of the envelope, unfolds it, and in big, bold and black letters—

Huh. Figures. Well, she probably deserves it. “Ah,” she says to no one in particular, somewhat disgruntled. “That’s very funny.”

“What is?” Maizono asks, smiling as she peaks over her shoulder, Kirigiri folds the paper before she has a chance to see what’s printed.

“Hm?”

“What’s funny, Kirigiri-san?”

“It’s nothing,” Kirigiri grumbles, settling the paper down. “Just these results.”

“Oh, who did you get?” Maizono pries casually, tone and gaze somewhat knowing, which concerns Kirigiri even more. “Is it someone in this class?”

Their little conversation is wrapped up in privacy; everyone too wound up or dying from hilarity over each other’s results to notice. “Mhm,” Kirigiri nods, the folded print clutched in her hand and not bothering to elaborate even further.

“I see,” Maizono giggles. “Maybe you got Hina-chan and Celes-san.”

Kirigiri freezes at the bluntness. Maizono narrows her eyes and pouts her lips in thought, examining the lines of Kirigiri’s body, tension-filled and iron-bent. “Just kidding!” She exclaims suddenly, almost an afterthought. “Who’d you really get?”

Kirigiri stares her down from her seat a moment longer, bloodless and intimidating; she sighs, then unravels the paper again slowly, releasing a breath through her nose, and finally looks away. “Yeah,” she says lowly. “I got them both.”

Maizono nods sagely. “It’s the intuition,” she says, lacking the surprise to fawn over such a boring revelation. “Is there something wrong about that though? You three are so obvious, and it’s kind of funny to me that you expected anything else—”

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” Kirigiri retorts, strangely off-balance and uncomfortable. “They’re just—they’re close.”

“Uh-huh. Right.” Maizono says flatly.

“Yeah,” Kirigiri murmurs, avoiding her stare. “Right.”

“And? You’re joined at the hip, go ask them out,” Maizono points out, as if it was a normal thing for anyone to do, her excitement spilling beyond her form. “Even matchmaking at an ultimate level says so! Go on a date.”

“Yeah, who cares?” Makoto chimes in, sitting on the empty seat besides Kirigiri’s, annoyance obviously spiralling. “I’m the one with the real issue here. I got _Togami_ - _kun_.”

Maizono’s hit with whiplash at that, jaw falling slack, thinks she pulls a muscle with the speed of light her eyebrows shoot up. “What? _Togami-kun?_ ” She asks, features alternating between mirth and disbelief. “I—I, Togami-kun,” she starts laughing, dainty but still a bit loud, “Wow, of all people you got him. Really, Naegi-kun?”

Naegi groans into the desk, then looks up, jaw tightening at every mention of the heir’s name. “God,” he says, face a bit pale, kind of like he’s getting a stroke. “What are you trying to do, summon him? I’ve had enough flak in one day.”

“Gosh—Togami-kun?” Maizono says again, awed and unable to grasp the concept. There’s a shock she’s slipping in and out of, it’s as if the world’s suddenly pried her eyes wide open and she can’t look away, or she’s being slapped awake from a dream only to find out she wasn’t sleeping in the first place.

Well, at least it’s a fun distraction.

Until it’s over.

“Stop it,” Naegi groans again, so red in the face it’s beginning to clash horribly with his own hair; he attempts to speak, opening his mouth again, breaths like bubbles waiting to pop in his throat for sound. Nothing comes out. He snaps his mouth closed, and groans into the desk for one last time.

Yeah, so it’s clear only one of them has _actual_ problems.

* * *

Asahina’s also neatly dressed by the time she returns to class from PE, bouncing up and down while double checking if her shoes were tied, for fear of making the same mistake Naegi did around first year. (It’s a funny, but comforting experience to remember, considering what was about to happen at this point.)

“Oh, hey Sakura-chan,” She hears Asahina say to Oogami, smiling appreciatively as the letter is placed on her desk. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Oogami says, then turns towards Kirigiri with a sharp look in her eye, almost knowing and it makes the detective’s eyebrows shoot up. She hears Ludenburg cough from somewhere in the room. “I got your letter from the matchmaking survey.”

Asahina hums, mind seemingly in another place, tying her hair into its usual ponytail; Kirigiri can’t look at her without facing the inevitable, and she’s afraid it’ll fill the room, afraid it’ll drown them all. She spies Ludenburg out of the corner of her eye, but can’t make out where she’s looking.

She shouldn’t care so much for this, but she does.

“Thanks,” Asahina says, reaching for it. “Who’d you match with? Man, it would be kind of funny if I matched with someone here—” she tears the envelope, “—I will never let Celes-san live it down if it was her—” she waves the paper around to straighten it out, “—now who did I get…” She trails off, eyes widening; Kirigiri can’t tell whose name she sees written right across it. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Oogami says with a small smile. “A perfect match.”

“I—uh,” Asahina tells her shrewdly. “Well, that’s. Wow, uh.”

“Expected?” Oogami offers.

“Unexpected.” Asahina corrects.

They stare at each other in the silence that follows.

“I’ll be going to the bathroom.” Kirigiri says abruptly, standing up. “Get me when the teacher comes, Naegi-kun.”

Naegi blinks at her owlishly.

(She doesn’t notice Asahina and Ludenburg staring at her on the way out.)

* * *

Give it time, Maizono had said to her. Kirigiri understands, and probably needed to hear it anyways.

She sets an alarm at four-thirty in the morning for the following day, and spends the majority of that time before school pacing around her apartment; It’s neat, as far as it goes, but there’s a few random things she’s missed due to very… pressing distractions—washing the used frozen food packs, actually folding the laundry from Tuesday, and maybe putting the empty cup noodles on the kitchen table in a trash bag. Asahina and Ludenburg flash through her mind every other step, the names on her compatibility test results burn like a tattoo into her skin. Like fixtures, like flowers. Something that blooms.

She refuses to let her brain form a thought, runs around doing as much missed chores as possible; the glass of the sliding door on the balcony look as though they’ve never seen a day of storm and rain, a rose and a sunflower sit in a small vase, _plastic_ —of course, because there was no way she would take care of them properly if those were real, but the sentiment behind getting them remains the same. She looks down, the hardwood floor isn’t littered with dust at every inch anymore, and is a bit startled when she sees the morning light glinting across the surface.

Six, the clock reads, and Kirigiri knows it’s time to go.

There’s a shift, but she doesn’t feel it.

* * *

“Psst.” A voice over her calls. “Looking dead on your feet there. What’s up?”

Kirigiri cracks her eyes open from the desk, peering through her eyelashes to see Asahina standing right in front of her, hands on her hips, watching her curiously. “I _am_ dead.”

Asahina laughs, and reaches out to her, lightly brushing the bangs away from her forehead, and Kirigiri stills awkwardly, sinking into the touch despite not meaning to. There’s a look on Asahina’s face that fills her with an unfair amount of dread.

If only she could just pass out right then and there and never see what the girl in front of her was doing. Or actually, if only she didn’t wake up around four-thirty and was working on _three_ cases at the same time the previous night trying to distract herself from Asahina and Ludenburg, only to end up sleepless the day afterward. Good _god._

“Hello.” Kirigiri mumbles when Asahina says nothing. “What time is it?” Though her words are slurred with sleep, she still manages to get out simple statements and questions, much to her relief.

“Dismissal was almost half an hour ago.” She looks at her with a smile. “I told Naegi-kun and the others that I’ll wait for you, so it’s just me.”

“Oh.”

Asahina only laughs again, and it makes Kirigiri feel warm.

(Asahina is warm. She is fire, the fire in the hearth of a harsh winter. She’s brash and reckless and runs towards her problems at full speed—but careful and tender for the things that matter. It’s as though with a single lock of their gazes that Kirigiri can feel her hands brushing against the ice that aligns her jaws, the frost that runs over her cheekbones, the small icicles that hang from her eyelashes, turning the cold that coats her body to heat.)

Asahina’s smile turns into something much more authentic. “You’re not even going to make it back to your apartment at this rate.” She sounds kind, though there’s a peculiar hardness in her eyes that Kirigiri distantly recognizes.

Oh no, she thinks. It’s _that_ look _._

(It’s the irresistible one—or so Oogami adores phrasing. It’s kind of like looking at a puppy. Kirigiri would know, she’s been on the receiving end of that multiple times. She wonders what for, as there are many subjects that Asahina can bring up. It can be the fact that she’s been staring at her, the fact that she’s been _also_ staring at Ludenburg, or literally anything else.)

Kirigiri grunts a bit, rising and mutely rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with one hand. (Asahina’s eyes follow her movements curiously, expression softening.) “I can.” She mutters, “I’ll get back.”

“No, you won’t.” Asahina disagrees quietly, a funny look on her face.

There’s a slight dusting of pink on her cheeks, and Kirigiri indistinctly recognizes the look as something she’s seen before and tries hard not to think about it. Maybe she’s cold or something, _yes, absolutely_ , so obviously, _rationally_ , she takes off her jacket and hands it to her. Asahina stares at her dumbly, and by the completely clueless look on her face, Kirigiri would have to spell it out for her.

“You looked cold,” she says blankly. “You can have this, because I don’t—”

Asahina snaps out of whatever trance she was in and shakes her face vigorously. “I—I’m not cold! I’m just—I’m just thinking.”

“Oh? Okay then I’ll—”

“Wait,” she sputters, grabbing the coat out of her hands, putting it on and over her school blazer. “There. I actually was. Much better.”

Kirigiri feels herself smile a little, “Warm now?” Her tone is slightly teasing, much to her own surprise. She chalks up her sudden bravery to exhaustion, as it _is_ a lot harder to control your mouth when you’re tired, after all.

Yes. Of course. That’s it.

“Uh,” Asahina flounders a little, before frowning. “You know what—enough of that. I use my dorm sometimes because of competitions so it’s furnished, and I say we’re going there tonight.”

“I—what?”

“Isn’t it obvious? This is a sleepover, your sleeping habits are the _worst_ I’ve seen from anyone in years.”

“Right.” A sleepover. “I see.” With Asahina. “Of course.” Alone.

“C’mon,” she smiles, gently taking her hands. “There’s some clothes there, and I’m not sure if it would fit you but you’re just taller so the size difference wouldn’t be that much of a bother I think—”

As Naegi would say: well, _fuck_.

* * *

“Holy crap—you feel like a _freezer!_ ”

“A lot have told me that.”

“What I mean is that you’re really, really cold. Like your feet are super cold.”

“A lot have told me that too.”

Asahina sighs, puffing up her cheeks and blowing some hair out of her face. She’s still wearing the detective coat over her sleepwear, and that minute detail makes something in Kirigiri’s stomach roll. “Stop being difficult about it and come a little closer, you loser.”

Kirigiri blinks rapidly for a moment. “Why would I need to—”

“Just—just go for it,” Asahina says, face red and exasperation more apparent than before.

Grimacing, Kirigiri obeys and hesitantly positions her body so that she’s much closer to Asahina. It wasn’t hard, the standard mattress of the dorms wasn’t too small, but she still felt a tad wary—maybe because Asahina had a slightly frightening look of determination on her face.

“I didn’t think my stuff would fit on you.” Asahina starts.

“I didn’t either.” Kirigiri says dryly, fiddling with the strings of one of Asahina’s varsity jackets.

“Wrong response,” Asahina playfully slaps her elbow, giggling. “You’re supposed to say something along the lines of those love interests from the shoujo stuff Fukawa-chan reads when she thinks nobody’s looking. Naegi-kun’s sister is such a powerful influence, it actually terrifies me.” 

Kirigiri looks at her blankly. “I don’t read those.”

“What?” Asahina gasps. “You uncultured human being!”

“Yes,” she says very seriously. “I am so sorry.”

“You’re—you’re actually making _jokes_ with me, and not weird dry humor. You definitely need that nap.”

“I see.”

“Ugh.”

“Hm.”

“You know, Kyoko-chan,” she begins. “You’re like, a really smart person.”

“Ah, thanks—”

“Which is why it’s really, really stupid that you’re playing dumb with me.”

“I’m not… playing,” she blinks. “I honestly don’t know what you’re asking for.” This is true. Though she likes to pretend she doesn’t notice things sometimes, she’s actually not privy to whatever plan Asahina has up in her sleeve.

Asahina sighs, puffing up her cheeks again, and Kirigiri fights the urge to squish them. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” Kirigiri says, raising an eyebrow.

“What I’m saying is you got to move closer,” Asahina grins, beckoning her and opening her arms. “Here!”

“Asahina-san.” She starts, confused. “If I come any closer we’ll be—” Kirigiri cuts herself off, going quiet. “…oh.”

“Oh.” Asahina parrots her mockingly.

“Cuddling.” Kirigiri finishes, her brain unable to process the situation. “I—”

“Okay, but did your childhood lack hugs or something?” Asahina asks, sounding genuinely curious and tapping her chin with one finger. “If yes, we have to like, start hugging all the time to make up for everything.” She nods wisely, closing her eyes earnestly. “Yeah, good plan.”

Kirigiri groans, cheeks warm, closing her eyes and sighing. “I can’t believe I agreed to sleep with you.”

Asahina squeaks. “I—Kyoko-chan!”

“What?” Kirigiri asks, opening one eye.

“You don’t just—you don’t just say things like _that_.” Asahina whines, flush rising into her cheeks.

“Like?” Kirigiri asks, notices that Asahina’s ears were blushing too. Cute, she thinks, then what she said earlier sinks in, sending her into a panic. She closes her one open eye so she wasn’t looking anywhere—being exhausted had its cons, she almost forgets.

“Like, like _that_ , you know? That…” Asahina trails off with a frustrated huff. “You’re so hard to deal with sometimes.”

Kirigiri smiles, pleased with herself. “I know.”

“Stop preening. That wasn’t a compliment, you nerd.”

“It is to me.”

Asahina’s blush deepens. “No, seriously, like, get over here.” She beckons her over again, looking irked. “We’re cuddling, and you’re going to like it.”

“Alright,” Kirigiri sighs, relenting. “I’ll cuddle, I’ll cuddle.”

“You and Celes-san are too high level for me—it’s like solving a two-thousand piece puzzle.” She groans, but smirks, looking a tad smug. “I get to cuddle with you though, so win-win.”

Kirigiri coughs into her glove. “Quite.” Tiredly, she moves closer. She forces down the noise from her throat when Asahina wraps her arms around her waist and tangles her legs with her own. Kirigiri awkwardly places her hands at somewhere below her back. The swimmer only giggles.

“Psst, hey,” Asahina’s breath tickles her neck.

“Yes?” She asks, pleasantly surprised at the way her voice sounded steady.

“We’re cuddling,” she says excitedly.

“I guess we are.”

“Feel like jumping off a cliff yet?”

“No… no, actually.” Kirigiri admits reluctantly, awkward and nervous at the confession.

“See? That totally means that you need some sleep, because if you were normal you would’ve said yes.” Asahina smiles lazily into her neck, shifting, and at once Kirigiri thinks that _no_ —no, she wouldn’t have said yes, she would’ve said differently. Because Asahina was so warm—her touch was gentle and burning all at the same time.

Deep in her chest, a desperate fire spreads, rushing through her veins and a careless pang of longing resonates in her soul. She feels too small, too inconsequential and insignificant in the face of the waves of her overwhelming desire for something she couldn’t quite place.

Heat rises to her cheeks, her skin is warm next to Asahina’s, the blood pooling in blushes, spreading throughout her entire body. Unfortunately, Asahina notices.

“Are you embarrassed?” Asahina giggles, expression sheepish.

“I’m not.” She can never be. “Just thinking.” She manages to rasp out, voice uneven and sounding more like a death bell, but everything in her brain stops functioning when Asahina’s lips lightly brush against her jawline. It almost feels like what she’s done was instinctual.

“No thinking.” Asahina whispers into her skin, and Kirigiri feels her smile into it. “I’ll wake you up before the alarm. Maybe we can go out again for fried donuts later too.”

“Okay.” Kirigiri swallows, the desert in her mouth remarkably unpleasant, and closes her eyes—the last thing she remembers before succumbing to sleep is Asahina’s face pressed up against her collarbone, and her warmth burning throughout every cell in her body.

Right. No thinking.

* * *

The next day and another PE session, things don't look so much better.

“I’ve done some research. I believe I’m prepared.”

Kirigiri blinks, setting her water bottle on the bleachers. “What?”

Ludenburg’s lips press into a narrow line, pulling out a thin binder and handing it to her.

She tilts her head and takes it. “What is this?”

“Ah, volleyball rules.”

“I find it strange you’re even here to watch a volleyball game when you would definitely be anywhere else,” Kirigiri says humorously, opening the folder given to her. “What did Asahina-san put up with you now?”

Ludenburg scoffs. “She started it. I’m just teaching her a lesson that it is not wise to cross me.”

“What… exactly happened?”

“She referred to me as ‘boring’ when I failed to narrate one of her old games on video,” she grumbles. “I’ll show her _boring_. I will point out every foul she commits today.”

Kirigiri raises an eyebrow mildly. “That’s not a very good reason.”

Ludenburg glares at her, clearly more worked up over the matter than Kirigiri thought she was. Asahina had that effect on her. “It’s a perfectly valid reason.”

“You’re just being petty.”

“Shut your mouth.”

Kirigiri smirks, thinly-veiled, while Ludenburg explains how she’d put together the binder beforehand, staying up and ‘sacrificing her beauty sleep’ for only a few hours (or four and five) and past her ideal bedtime to thoroughly research the rules and regulations of the aforementioned sport.

Ludenburg clears her throat, clearly about to recite something. “There must be six players on the floor at any one time—three in the front row and three in the back row. There must be a maximum of three hits per side. Points are made on every serve for winning team of rally, or the rally-point scoring and—”

“The serve has to cross before it counts,” Kirigiri finishes, her smile, small but still breaking through, and she knows not unkindly. “I don’t sneak off during the middle of PE and watch the games until the end. I’ve picked up a few things.” Ludenburg must see something in her face though, because she doesn’t reply, choosing to reach out to gently take the binder from Kirigiri’s hands, and opening it up on her own. Kirigiri only smiles and continues. “However, the nuances are beyond me, so I do think it’s smart to look through this before the match starts—and before whatever you’ve bet against her.”

There must be something in her subtlety, and Ludenburg sees it, but doesn’t ruin it by acknowledging it directly; instead, she smiles and summarizes the other rules as simply as possible, until Asahina comes into the gym in uniform, and both of them lose their focus entirely.

Kirigiri immediately decides to believe that the root of her problem at the moment is the unexpectedness of it. Sure, Asahina is objectively beautiful, but considering that she’s seen her in numerous sports uniforms that show even _more_ skin before, she shouldn’t be so distracted by every synonym of ‘hot’ and ‘pretty’ piercing every few seconds through her brain or any other adjective describing Asahina now, striding out in tight, blue shorts and _oh_ , it was the varsity jacket Kirigiri’s borrowed the night before.

She looks extremely good, something on the verge of _immoral_ —legs on full display, her calves were _toned_ , and hair tied up in her iconic ponytail, gravity-defying as usual, and there’s no hiding Kirigiri’s reaction. She’s not sure whether to feel grateful or surprised when Ludenburg apparently fails to notice it, being so caught up in her own; she’s seen Ludenburg look at women before, but she’s never seen her stare at any of them like this: openly wanting and not interested in waiting a second longer before getting precisely what she desires.

(Kirigiri shivers, and she’s not certain why.)

She is left blinking, this one instant hazing into something incomprehensible, unable to find the words. Thankfully, at least, Ludenburg finds them for her.

“Oh _god_.”

* * *

They don’t talk about it, not much. Not really. Other than, well, this—

“So. She was—that—for both of us she was. Right.” Kirigiri says, mouth dry as the air they’re under, the sound of her swallowing audible, and she doesn’t have a follow up to this, dropping her hands to her sides, and the gambler obviously can’t blame her.

“Indeed, she… was. Yes.” Ludenburg pushes back on the awkward silence by clearing her throat. Loudly. It doesn’t work in the slightest. “Unfortunately, she’s still an annoyance to me. So it was, at most, a mild disturbance.”

(There you go, she thinks of saying. Lying again.

Ludenburg is lying to her, for not the first time, but she’s lying to herself as well, and it _isn’t_ the first time either.

And Kirigiri is lying, too.

So maybe that makes things even.)

“Celes-san—”

Ludenburg can’t seem to look at Kirigiri, and there’s no time for her to spare any moment processing the combination of emotions on her face.

“She’s not the only one I think about like that.”

Kirigiri blinks and her brain (and breathing and heart and body) shuts down and restarts, the world pulling her back into her space and reminding her exactly where she is, what time she’s in, and specifically what she’s doing. The internal chastisement comes quickly, but she finds herself ignoring it, transfixed, unable to look away. There’s still space between them, if only just, and every centimeter of it is packed with a material and corporeal sort of tension. Ludenburg’s hands are clenched behind her, like holding back right now is the hardest thing she’s ever done in her life, and Kirigiri sees it like it’s the only thing happening right in front of her.

“I think about you.”

As it all is, she’s left without the capacity to do anything other than to listen.

“I think about you two all the time.”

* * *

(Her head isn’t empty of thoughts; there’s actually way too much of it.

In the moment, she’s consumed by something she can’t describe—something that should be jealousy, but isn’t.

In the moment, she thinks of kissing Asahina, thinks about kissing Ludenburg, and wonders why even the cold water of her shower doesn’t wash away the warmth pooling in her stomach when she thinks about them kissing each other.)

* * *

“Wait—what?”

“Yes,” Ludenburg only says, snappily. “You’re a fool.”

Kirigiri’s not the one who initiates the conversation, but she knows it’s right before she even has a chance to reply.

Neither of them make a motion to move just yet, like there’s a lot to be unearthed before it should continue; finally, Kirigiri works up the courage to ask. “Can I see?” She mumbles, lips dry.

“See?” Ludenburg says simply, narrowing her eyes, there’s a tight line on her mouth and it breaks through the air, through _her_ , and not nicely. “You don’t need to ask to see what’s right in front of— _fine_.”

“No, forget it,” Kirigiri interrupts quickly. “I shouldn’t have even asked. That’s a private thing and—”

“Kirigiri-san,” Ludenburg cuts in, face in harsh lines, completely exposing the match results; she and Asahina’s names stare right back at her, and Kirigiri’s face _burns_ for reasons she can’t comprehend. The gambler sighs, because she recognizes why Kirigiri had picked the time to ask; they’re completely alone in the hallways, past five, not a single other soul having dared chance the Monday evening, and it’s less of a risk than even being alone in the classroom. “You’re so bad at this.”

(It’s… unexpected—no, that doesn’t even cover it. The three of them are a lot of things, a lot of contradictions and a lot of facets; complex from a distance, simple when broken down to their very essentials. There’s no night, no noon and no day, no sun, no moon and no Earth, no blood and poetry and prose—all that is there are shadows, but they’re softer, gentle and fragile under trickling light. They’re flickering fire, something that grows. A clap of thunder, a clap of lightning.

That’s why it’s wrong. Because they’re exposed when they’re alone, and unexpected isn’t even anywhere close.)

“I,” Kirigiri starts quietly, and she watches Ludenburg slip her bottom lip between her teeth, releasing it a second later. “I am.”

Kirigiri’s admission seems to embolden her; Ludenburg shifts her weight, settles more confidently on her feet. She knows how to live in the in-betweens, the grey areas lining something and something more. She’s lived in both extremes. Give her an inch—Ludenburg doesn’t have to take anything further, because Kirigiri will give her a mile. She sighs, fixes her red tie, runs her fingers through her hair and the ends; she looks a bit disgruntled, definitely irritated, but she’s still one of the most beautiful people Kirigiri’s ever seen.

Maybe it’s time she finally admit that. Maybe it’s time they all do.

“Good,” Ludenburg agrees, stepping forward. “Good.”

“I really am.”

“Probably the most obvious thing on the planet.”

Kirigiri’s mouth curls up. “I am,” she says. “The paper doesn’t mean anything though.”

“Are you _joking_?” Ludenburg blinks. “Are you _serious_?”

Kirigiri raises an eyebrow. “Um, yes?”

“Oh my god.” Ludenburg says heatedly, and she’s blushing for whatever reason.

“Is there… something I said?”

“Yes, you’re so annoying.”

The blush deepens. Kirigiri tries not to think about it too much.

* * *

The thing about Kirigiri Kyoko as a person, is that she’s not great when it comes to talking about feelings. Not that it was a secret or anything, it became more apparent to a lot of people as the school years went on. If asked, she will freely admit that she probably has some work to do in the whole ‘bottling your emotions’ and the ‘learn to process your feelings like a healthy adult’ department.

The thing is, she’s always been that way, it just wasn’t very apparent in the presence of strangers or her father.

Which brought her to Naegi—and not the other way around this time. Her best friend, Kirigiri would begrudgingly admit. Her dim, but kind and willing to listen best friend.

And honestly, for a moment, she considered talking to Asahina and Ludenburg like what a normal person would do when overwhelmed, but faltered at the last second.

She knows that if she ended up telling them it would be a step towards understanding, for them to know her and trust her and well… _maybe_ for things to get better. However, it was spectacularly hard for her to even consider what she might tell them. It gripped her, hold unwavering and immobile, suffocating, and shook her so thoroughly that for once in her life she feared she’d never have a moment of rest.

The truth has always been clear to her until it isn’t. It’s a mystifying feeling, kind of like the way all roads available to her seem endless and none of them lead home.

“So,” Kirigiri begins, looking at the moving figures down below from the school rooftop. “The results say I’m matched with two people.”

“Well,” Naegi laughs knowingly, doing the same. “Is that a surprise?”

“That’s not it,” she sighs. “Celes-san has the same results, but with my name on it.”

“Wow,” Naegi says seriously. “That’s really a surprise.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” she drawls. “This is more than just inconvenient.”

"Okay, okay." Naegi nods sympathetically; her phrases roundabout but too emotive to disregard. “Have you, uh, considered asking them out?”

“Yes, but that means I would have to _talk_ to them.” Kirigiri deadpans. “Might as well ask a dog to play fetch, Naegi-kun.”

“Hey!” Naegi slugs her gently on the shoulder. “It’s a genuine suggestion—and you _talked_ to Celes days ago. Don’t think they haven’t noticed you avoiding them either.”

“Ow,” she says half-heartedly. “ _She_ talked to _me._ And I’m not avoiding them. I’ve just been busy.”

Naegi raises an eyebrow.

“…fine.” It was difficult for her, the idea of opening up to the people who’d so effortlessly captured her affection, who’d so easily drew her attention. “I’m avoiding them.”

“Okay, that’s one step down,” Naegi nods eagerly. “Wait—I have another suggestion.”

“Please be useful and relevant.”

“It totally is.” Naegi huffs. “Have you ever considered they _actually_ like you back? And like, will totally kiss you when given the chance, at least once?”

“Yes.” No. “They don’t like me back.” _She’s_ the one fantasizing about them, actually.

Naegi looks at her, frozen and jaw so far off of its hinges that Kirigiri is a bit appalled by it. He stares, stares, _stares_ , eyes continuing to widen to almost comical levels, like they feel too big for his skull it might as well pop off of its sockets.

“Are you _serious_?” He asks bluntly after a solid minute.

“Yes?” She says blankly, not quite sure.

“Um,” he says plainly, his entire expression looks sidesplitting, over-exaggerated. _“What?”_

“Right.”

“Kirigiri-san,” he says slowly, sounding out of breath. “You’re a very, very smart person.”

“Objectively, yes, it’s required for the job—”

“Which is why it’s so painfully obvious when you’re playing dumb.”

“I—no, really,” she protests, blinking momentarily at the déjà vu, genuine for once. “I really don’t know if they do.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” 

“I’m not.” She says dryly.

“Oh my god.” Naegi says like the world was ending. “Oh my _god_.”

“I don’t see the problem here?” She asks, a little puzzled by the weight of his intensity.

“There are _so_ many problems here, actually,” he tells her vehemently, like the words should mean something to her. “So, _so_ many problems.”

“And those are?”

Naegi ruffles his hair. “They like you!” he says loudly. “What the heck did you think the flirting was, a _best friends_ thing?! You’re the Ultimate Detective—”

“They do?” She asks mildly, not absorbing much of what he’s said after the first three words.

“Oh my _god,_ ” he says dramatically. “I think I’m going to pass out. No way. _No way_.”

“They like me back.” She breathes out dumbly, her lungs too big for the cage they’re contained in. She bites down on her tongue, knowing any denial is definitely a lie; she isn’t one to jump into action, take risks, dive headfirst into spontaneity. But with the two of them it’s like an inevitability rather than a choice. She’s struggling more with the existence of that idea rather than the idea itself, it almost feels like a fact, and yet—

“Kirigiri-san,” he says, vaguely terrified. “Everyone else knows.”

“Right.”

“Kirigiri-san,” he repeats loudly. “Oh my _god_.”

She can’t respond, and there’s that feeling again, like she’s rooted to the earth, like she’s just another flower nature’s grown from the ground, her face falling open, raw and vulnerable; Naegi sighs, like he was expecting the reaction, too caught up in his own theatrics that she doesn’t get most of what else he’s said.

Hey, I’ve had a really long day, she thinks of saying. I’m so tired and spent and exhausted and I get it, but they’re still so beautiful. I look and I think of wanting way too much than I’m allowed to. She knows the words sit somewhere beneath her tongue. Lovely, lovely, very lovely, but buried away.

She thinks of reaching, thinks of reaching and lips falling against her mouth, lips whispering the world into her heart. Her heartbeat is steady and her bones are at peace, wherever they are.

“I have to tell them, don’t I?” Kirigiri says after a few minutes, so surprised that she’s forgotten herself almost entirely. Nervous and excited and scared of the admission. Her veins feel too warm underneath her skin. Boiling. She’s thankful. It’s becoming cold.

“Oh yeah, you totally do.” Naegi says candidly, like he’s giving up. “ _Something’s_ got to give.”

“Something’s got to give.” She repeats, more to herself than him.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be her.

* * *

“…you don’t look so good.” Kirigiri says blankly, trying not to cringe at the awkwardness of not having to see Ludenburg for a few or so days, to which the former was rubbing her forehead tiredly and groaning into the cafeteria table. “Are you… alright?”

Ludenburg looks like she’s fighting the urge to resort to violence. “I am sick of everything, and I’d like to be in a coma for about a few centuries.”

“Oh yeah.” Asahina says while walking towards them, nodding brilliantly, then pauses with a solemn expression. “Wait—you’re not a vampire or something, are you?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re so stupid.” A pause, “If I was, I wouldn’t be here,” and then she peers up, stares at Kirigiri dead in the eye. “You’re to blame for this.”

“Me?” Kirigiri blinks, finding it hard to even up to the heat in Ludenburg’s gaze. “Am I ignorant to something I did so bad it gave you a splitting migraine?”

“Yes.” Ludenburg says instantly. “You’re full of shit.”

“I—” Kirigiri stops so suddenly the juice on the food tray she’s carrying almost spills over. Asahina and Ludenburg appear entirely unconcerned. “Excuse me?”

“I mean exactly what I said.” Ludenburg squints at her. “I think you’re full of shit for avoiding me.”

“And you know,” Asahina adds unhelpfully, waving with a way too sunny smile that’s anything but genuine. “Me.”

“Um, right. Sorry.” Kirigiri swallows, setting the food tray down on the table. “I am.” Remembering who she’s talking to, she hurries to continue. “I really don’t have anything to say about that.”

“Right, of course. Of course.” Ludenburg drawls, leaning closer and lowering her voice. They gain a few looks. “You don’t have anything to say, but I do.”

“Yeah, like,” Asahina falls silent until she feels all watchful eyes on them look away, and combining it with the pinch of her forehead—it sets Kirigiri on edge, as she watches the way the swimmer flexes her arms absentmindedly, emphasizing the lines in her uniform in a way that should be considered evil, until it settles with Kirigiri, like the old and familiar attraction to them both is finally put into perspective. The thought comes and goes until she realizes exactly what situation she’s in and reels it back into her head. “A lot for me to say too, you know.”

“I get it.” Ludenburg whispers to her and she’s close, grabbing onto Kirigiri’s arm and dragging her away from the cafeteria, hand pressed to her back and mouth close enough that her hair moves with the gambler’s exhale. Heat rushes up, colors Kirigiri’s face, and then runs back to her toes, leaving a shiver in its wake. “How good she makes the uniform look. It shouldn’t, don’t you think? It’s pleasant to look at.”

“What?” Kirigiri manages, forced and obvious. “I didn’t—hm, no— _no_ , I didn’t see that.”

“You’re so _cool_ , Kyoko-chan,” Asahina says quietly, teasing, and— _oh no_ —her breaths brush just so against the lines of her neck. “You make playing dumb look so smooth.”

_God_ , Kirigiri thinks of saying. Or, well, she thinks it’s a thought, until she hears the word leave her mouth out loud.

Asahina laughs, and well, seriously, it _should_ be irritating, but with the way Ludenburg’s thumb was rubbing against her glove right now, it isn’t.

“Celes-san is right.” Asahina says with a glint in her eye. “You _are_ full of shit.”

* * *

“We need to talk to you.” Ludenburg explains, “And we need you to talk back. As if that was obvious enough.”

“I’m told that’s usually how a conversation goes, yes. Of course—”

“Kyoko-chan.” Asahina whines.

She mumbles an apology.

“Okay. Cool.” Asahina says, expression very serious for once. “Let’s begin with why you weren’t talking to us for _three days straight_.”

She opens her mouth to protest.

“Aside from Naegi-kun.” Ludenburg adds dryly before she speaks.

“Anyways,” Asahina interrupts, slight sheen of amusement in her blue eyes. “Why were you isolating yourself?” She asks her, voice softer than before. “We were worried, you know? We care a lot about you, but if you don’t talk to us we won’t be able to help.”

She doesn’t look away as the questions were asked. Personally, she’s tired of avoiding them, tired of fighting to keep her everything at bay. Seriously, what’s the point anymore? It was going to happen eventually. Something’s got to give, and obviously it was her.

Is she really considering it? Allowing herself to let down her guard? Asking the two to come closer, to see all of her, and then stay afterwards?

Yeah, she realizes. Yeah, she is.

“I needed to think.” She answers quietly. “I needed to make sure.”

Asahina smiles, and Ludenburg nods.

They all go very still. “So,” Asahina begins, “are you… okay?”

She closes her eyes. “The both of you surprised me… and you made me feel things—I didn’t know what to do with it at first.” Kirigiri opens her eyes again and smiles. “But—but I think I’m okay with it now. It all feels much clearer than it was before.”

“Heck yeah.” Asahina mutters to herself with a grin.

“Asahina.” Ludenburg chastises, an unreadable expression on her face, not looking away from Kirigiri. “Please continue.”

Kirigiri blinks. “How did you both find out anyway?”

“We have _eyes,_ Kyoko-chan.”

Ludenburg lets out a breath. “It was obvious after a while.”

“Oh.” Kirigiri says, flushing. “That’s… that’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Totally. Oh yeah.” Asahina nods vigorously with a straight face. “As if thinking about two girls kissing me wasn’t nerve-wracking and didn’t make me lose my concept of time in swimming practice _ten_ times in a row.”

“You are a complete idiot and I care about you.” Ludenburg deadpans with a look of utter seriousness.

“So, how does this…” Kirigiri cuts in, trailing off, vaguely gesturing to all three of them. “How will this work?”

“We absolutely need to talk about this.” The gambler nods solemnly. “Because all of us have had feelings that have been denied for far too long and—given the present situation—acting on these feelings in a proper manner would be beneficial to all parties involved.”

“Oh my god,” Asahina cackles, wheezing. “You sound just like Togami-kun when you’re nervous.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Ludenburg snaps, cheeks red. “I’m not nervous.”

“For real, you need a lot of kisses and hugs because—”

“Okay, enough of that.” Kirigiri sighs, but laughs. “How do we really do this?”

“Let me get this straight,” Asahina says, and Ludenburg snorts. “—We’re talking a full-on, legit love triangle that actually has three sides. And obviously we don’t need any more proof right? Unless me seeing Celes-san stare at Kyoko-chan’s ass for a full five minutes during the field trip last month was some weird illusion made up by my fantasies.”

Ludenburg glowers weakly at her. “One day. One day you will disappear from the face of the Earth and I will call it a miraculous convenience.”

“I—what?” Kirigiri manages. “That was you?”

Asahina laughs loudly, and Ludenburg meets her gaze stiffly but doesn’t say anything.

Kirigiri releases a breath. “Never mind that. We’re getting off-topic again.”

“And that brings us to our next order of business.” Ludenburg says quickly, clapping her hands together. “I think you all know.”

Kirigiri doesn’t outwardly react. “You do.” She says very quietly.

“Let’s all pretend I don’t for the sake of clarity.” Ludenburg narrows her eyes slightly. “Take this from my page, but bottling them all up will do us no good.”

“Yeah! What she said.” Asahina grins and nods, before pausing. “Uh, what are we talking about now?”

“The thing, dear, the one we discussed earlier.”

Asahina’s eyes widen, and she laughs nervously. “Oh, right. That.” She looks at Kirigiri, watching her from across the small amount of space that she made for them on the bed in her dorm. She opens up her arms and smirks, “Round two?”

Ludenburg looks at them dubiously. “…what?”

“Cuddling.” Kirigiri deadpans.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Asahina giggles and beckons her again. “Come on, I won’t bite!”

Kirigiri sighs, deciding she’s much better off not resisting.

As soon as she’s close enough to grab, Asahina holds onto her like she was a stuffed animal. “Yeah!” She cheers in Kirigiri’s ear, making her wince. “No refunds!”

“Refunds?”

“I said what I said.” Asahina says from her lap, sounding sure. Ludenburg looks at them with a small smile.

“But what—”

“No refunds.”

“Okay.”

“Glad we’re in an agreement then. This is like, a safety precaution in case you decide to run away.”

“I will be on my best behavior.” She drawls.

Asahina grins at her. “Good.”

Kirigiri stays quiet, then looks up at Ludenburg and silently asks her if Asahina was serious by raising her eyebrow.

Ludenburg rolls her eyes. “We will break it to you slowly, no?”

“Yep.” Asahina says, smiling into the crook of her shoulder.

“Hm, what?” Kirigiri laughs a little, without much humor. “Are you saying we should—”

“You like her, you like me, I like you and she likes me, we all like each other! Which means _duh,_ we all date!” Asahina cuts her off easily, saying the words so confidently that Kirigiri almost takes her seriously.

“Indeed.” Ludenburg sighs, holding Asahina’s free hand with an affectionate, little smile. “We all date.”

“…I think I’ve gone mad. Actually, I definitely died.” Kirigiri mutters, words choked. She knew she shouldn’t have switched her and Togami’s coffees that one time—but she was bored, and finished with her homework and cases, and still not sure whether what she was feeling for Asahina and Ludenburg was jealousy or attraction.

(But mostly, she was extremely bored, and it was worth the trouble to see Togami ‘act below his station’, spitting her beverage into the cafeteria floor.)

“Hey, you good?”

“No.” She says quietly, ignoring them both. “I’m dead.”

Asahina stares at her, a morose look beginning to grow on her face. “I think we killed her. We’re criminals now.”

“Technically,” Ludenburg drawls. “I’ve always been a criminal. And you’re in love with me.”

“Oh yeah, oh yeah.” Asahina nods, smile wide. “I’m in love with a criminal, and technically the one supposed to catch her—wait, holy _shit_. Sakura-chan will kill me.”

Kirigiri chokes.

“She won't kill you, you imbecile." She starts, then pauses. "Kirigiri-san has a soft spot for me, by the way.” Ludenburg supplies incredulously, not at all helpful to Kirigiri’s current dilemma. “I started a gambling den last year at the gardens and she didn’t tell on me until the principal saw it himself.”

“No _fucking_ way.”

Kirigiri chokes again.

“Hey, Kyoko-chan?” Asahina observes her carefully, brows pinching and looking worried. “Are, um, are you okay?”

“Are you sure?” Kirigiri asks softly, doing her best to snap out of her shock. Not that she succeeds, or anything. “Sure that you’re both… in love with me.”

“Well, yeah.” Asahina says, wiggling on her lap and heat rolling off of her like a nuclear reactor. “I’m like, pretty sure I’m in love with you. I wouldn’t be chilling here on you if not.”

Kirigiri blinks slowly, then turns to Ludenburg beside her, raising an eyebrow, as if to ask her the same thing.

“For me,” she leans in closer, the look on her face was serious and honest. “There is no question.”

She falters, unsure again. Kirigiri was afraid of hoping for something like this to happen, afraid of dreaming for something that had the potential to envelop her in happiness and being taken care of so exquisitely and tenderly; when shiny, beautiful things are dangled right in front of her, only for it to be cruelly ripped away.

“...but why?” Kirigiri asks. “The two of you are both wonderful people and…” Kirigiri pauses and sighs tiredly. “I have… a lot to work out. I haven’t settled a lot of things about me that needs settling. It’s not worth it.”

A noise of something Kirigiri recognizes as outrage escapes Ludenburg’s throat. “Are you serious? It _is_ worth it. I won’t love you _regardless_ of your past, Kirigiri,” she protests viciously, tongue sharp and dagger in her mouth, “I will love you _because_ of it.”

“She’s right.” Asahina says, offering her a shy and earnest glance. “How can you look at yourself and see a person anything but worth the love we can give you?”

Kirigiri smiles, averts her eyes down, her pulse fluttering in her wrist. She feels the heat pool into her cheeks, in the place where she and Asahina’s skin connects, in the place where Ludenburg’s hands have settled somewhere on her own and her shoulders; and the sight of these makes something simmer underneath her heart, which is the way it always seems to do so these days, and she wonders how that feeling would translate if she kisses them both.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just allows it to take her. Like the flash of a dream, and she’s staring at them like she’s giving up, like she’s offering them the sky in gaudy gift wrap, like she’s way in over her head. Take this, the challenge says. Take this clap of lightning, this stroke of fire, take it. It’s a part of me. It’s my heart.

“I don’t know.” Kirigiri murmurs, too close to stop, too enthralled for any sensibility. “Something being offered to me with no strings attached is a foreign concept.”

“Kyoko.” Asahina says, drawing her gaze with a single word. “The world fucking sucks for doing so much to you, and well, to Celes too but that’s like, a topic for another day, but that doesn’t mean we will love you any less.”

“Okay.” She mumbles, trying not to lean into both of their holds and failing miserably. “I care for the both of you so much. A great, great deal.”

“Pleased.” Ludenburg exhales with a smile, looking relieved. “I did not come here mentally prepared, so I honestly had no idea what was going to happen.”

“Huh.” Asahina blinks. “Me too.”

It was quiet then, Kirigiri stares at them a moment longer, thinking about nothing, and then smiles; she’s only partly surprised when Asahina’s arms tighten around her, almost desperate. Then Ludenburg drifts closer, leans into her from behind. Kirigiri just sighs, her other arm wrapping itself around all of them and drawing them closer to her.

“So.” Asahina starts. “Is this the part where we make out or something?”

Ludenburg coughs violently and Kirigiri only laughs.

The gambler blushes up to her ears. “You don’t have to point that out so boorishly!”

Asahina cackles loudly, grip on Kirigiri’s shoulder tightening. “I mean—this, this one time you were like ‘she’s coming into the bed with the devil’ when Kyoko-chan told you she was coming over to your dorm to help you with the chemistry project. You can’t say anything!”

Kirigiri’s eyes widen comically.

“Please shut up. Please shut the fuck up.” Ludenburg groans into Kirigiri’s hair. “You told me you wouldn’t tell her that.”

“I mean, it’s not an easy memory to forget,” Asahina laughs nervously, cheeks a little red. “You said it to me in this suggestive way and you were laying on your bed in the prone position and I just thought—”

“Do not speak on this manner any longer.” Ludenburg grumbles, also beginning to go red. “You are the _worst_ , I swear.”

“I don’t…” Kirigiri’s bewilderment only grows. “I—”

“It’s not my fault okay?” Asahina continues, pushing on and ignoring Kirigiri entirely.

“Of course.” Ludenburg smiles amiably. “It is totally my fault for saying something that will activate your higher fantasies.”

“Awesome. Okay. Cool. Very cool, super cool, we’re all cool—hey, wait a minute—”

Ludenburg snorts, and Kirigiri can tell she can’t really help herself. It was probably some sort of crime to not laugh at the things that came out of Asahina's mouth.

“You are both so mean to me—” She cries out, “—it’s not fair! You’re both really attractive and have nice smiles and cute laughs and—”

“I’m only teasing you.” Ludenburg says flatly, clearly not bothered by Asahina’s plight. “I thought you liked it when I did—”

“Wait wait wait wait wait _wait!_ ” Asahina interrupts her, burying her head in her hands and groaning.

Kirigiri finally regains enough lucidity to make sense of the situation, and coughs awkwardly. “You two should just kiss or something.”

“Maybe we should.” Asahina wiggles her eyebrows and Ludenburg pushes her face away. Kirigiri only chuckles and kisses her cheek, and then Asahina freezes for a good ten seconds.

Ludenburg pinches her.

“Ow! Hey!” She pouts, looking up at them. “You’re both supposed to _like_ me.”

“I _tolerate_ you.” Ludenburg snarks back, though her smile was soft. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Ugh, fine.” She sighs, grumbling. “But only if you give Kyoko here a big old kiss.”

Kirigiri only smiles at that, and Ludenburg rolls her eyes, but obeys anyway. She leans in, and Kirigiri mirrors her, shifting her head slightly and drawing her in. Ludenburg pauses for a moment before their lips meet, as if to ask if it was okay, and Kirigiri nods rapidly, unabashed—causing Asahina, who was still on her lap, to laugh raucously.

Ludenburg kisses her then, kisses her while she hears Asahina snickering at the expressions on their faces and the eagerness of their movements.

It ends at the sound of Asahina sighing into her shoulder, then she looks up and grins.

“Oh, don’t mind me.” Asahina says casually. “Go on, really—I don’t mind at all.” She giggles. “It’s pretty cool to look at. Go on. Go on. I’m good.”

“I will throw you out of the bed.” Ludenburg states simply, but leans across Kirigiri to kiss her too, anyway. 

“Wait.” Asahina shouts after they break apart. “This is _my_ bed.”

“It’s called,” the fondness is clear Ludenburg’s voice, but so is the contentment, like her sense of belonging is edging out her propriety. “A mutiny.”

“I won’t forget this slight against me.” Asahina leans in teasingly, the palms of her hands press against somewhere on them both, keeping her touch there like it’s where it belongs.

“Oh, you won’t.” Ludenburg says, softer and quieter, kind of like it’s her own confession.

Kirigiri smiles, and it’s what it should’ve been from the beginning, whole, hopeful, real.

Hey, she thinks of saying, pressed against their skin like it’s the only place she remembers how to live. I’m home, she imagines writing somewhere in the sky, wondering if they’d see it, if they’d know.

Maybe it’s always been written there.

She smiles, holding their hands and thinking of peace.

* * *

(“Whoa,” Naegi says when she comes into the classroom on the next morning. “The one person I never thought I’d see looking like a mess.” He purses his lips. “Kirigiri-san, you’re a mess.”

Kirigiri smirks broadly, not bothered at all by the observation. “I’m aware,” she says, fixing her tie absentmindedly. “And I don’t care.”

“Wait—huh?” Naegi says idly, and his eyes dart briefly up, a thought striking him and it looks like he’s seen the entire world split wide open. “Oh my god. Oh my _god_.”

“Yes,” she says, blissfully uncaring and dismissive.

He picks up on the tone easily, his eyes widening continuously and yells loudly. “Finally! You guys are together!”

She turns to him, entirely straight-faced. “Naegi-kun,” she tells him seriously, “at this current moment in time, I literally don’t care about anything else. So even if you talk to me right now, I will probably forget about it in a few minutes. Please don’t waste your breath.”

Maizono pokes her head from the door, and comes in, laughing. Ikusaba follows right behind her with a similar expression. “Gosh, looks like they did a number on you,” she giggles, unable to contain her excitement. “You look so blissed out.”

“Nah,” Hagakure pokes in from Naegi’s side, laughing and shaking his head. “Kirigiri-chi, you look like you’re in a different world right now.”

“Oh, I am.” She says, setting her bag down on her desk. “And I think I like it here.”)

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't beta'd, and uh. i haven't proofread through like, more than half, because i wanted to get this out. so this is the boneless version. i'll get back to it soon, but i feel there won't be too much glaring mistakes to correct.
> 
> edit; 01/03. it's done. lots of corrections made, mostly tense errors and a few misplaced apostrophes. nearly unnoticeable.
> 
> anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed that! i liked writing celeste the most in this. kg!celeste is bitter and selfish at her core, but nondespair au celeste, given time and friends and maybe a few slaps, would be kind of like a porcupine, and hina's bubbliness is a nice offset to that. it's funny, i personally adored writing their banter here. kirigiri's just in the middle asking for a waffle. god help her.
> 
> it's actually already january 2 here in the philippines, but happy new year regardless! thank you so much for reading.


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